


Walls

by indigospacehopper



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 06:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigospacehopper/pseuds/indigospacehopper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's sulking, and John isn't very good at being comforting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walls

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through the notes on my phone when I found this one from a while ago. It's just a stand alone thing that I didn't know what to do with. So yeah. 
> 
> \- indigospacehopper x

The silence was a concrete wall between them. John longed for it to be knocked down; longed to say something meaningful to him, but it wouldn't be received. As soon as a crack began to show, Sherlock would hurriedly plaster back over it, quickly covering it up and never mentioning it again. It made John want to buy a bulldozer. 

Now, the concrete was thicker than ever. Sherlock had been a shit. A complete and utter twat. His idiocy had resulted in two people losing their lives, for John to find himself in the midst of a headache, and for Sherlock to be yelled at by a string of people, including Mycroft, Lestrade, and Mrs Hudson. The last one had been horrible to witness. John thought he'd stepped into a nightmare at one point; the look on Sherlock's face was heartbreaking. It wasn't technically Sherlock's fault, what had happened, but Sherlock was still being shitty enough for everyone to ignore him, no matter how hard he tried to tell them. 

"Sherlock?" John cleared his throat, looking at the man in front of him. 

Sherlock was sitting hunched over on the sofa, hugging himself and gripping onto his elbows tightly. He stared blindly at the coffee table. It was clear from his dazed look that he wasn't really looking at it, but thinking heavily instead. John frowned. 

"Sherlock?" John tried again, voice softer than before. He sat down next to him, watching the younger man tense. "Are you going to talk to me?"

As he expected, Sherlock shook his head. 

"Okay..." John sighed, rubbing his forehead and thinking heavily. "Okay... Are you cold?" He asked, seemingly randomly. Sherlock shrugged, and John's frown deepened. He hated seeing Sherlock like this. 

"You know it wasn't your fault, don't you?" John asked quietly, rubbing Sherlock's back. He was surprised to find that Sherlock leant slightly into him, shuffling a bit closer. "I mean, you were an absolute pain in the arse. Five times you ran off, Sherlock. Five. Do you know what that's like? Especially during a stake-out-" Sherlock looked down, closing his eyes. John immediately regretted his decision to berate him. 

"Look," he started softly. "I know you were excited today. And I don't blame you. It was an interesting case. Time was important. But you have to learn not to run off. Those two... Who tried to follow you-" Sherlock went pale and John swallowed. Deaths didn't usually effect Sherlock this much, but John supposed his current mood came as a result of Mrs Hudson. Even John felt a twang of guilt when she'd said that she was ashamed of Sherlock. "It's not your fault that they followed you. You told them not to. I know you did. I heard you, and so did Anderson. He's backing you up with this one, believe it or not. Although I'm not sure whether that helps you or not."

Sherlock chewed his lip. "They'll never believe me if Anderson's on my side," he mumbled, tapping his feet on the ground. John sighed, feeling a splintering crack in the wall begin to widen.

"Probably not, but it's still a step in the right direction. Mrs Hudson will come round. I think she's just a little bit stressed at the moment. Her nephew-"

"Her nephew is trying to get her into an elderly care home," Sherlock supplied in a monotone. "He wants her out of the apartment, and all of her money." He shrugs, hugging himself a bit tighter. "Hardly my fault." 

"That's not the point," John sighed. "You mean a lot to her, Sherlock. And your constantly putting yourself in danger worries her. If anything happened to her, most of her money would go to you. In fact, I think everything of hers would go to you. That's why she worries," John cautiously wrapped his arm around Sherlock's back, squeezing his opposite arm gently, all while horribly aware of how many boundaries he was breaching. "She cares about you." 

Sherlock leaned into him further, resting his head on John's shoulder. John practically felt the ground shake beneath him as another crack formed. "So, she shouted at me because she wouldn't have anyone to write about in her will if I died?" He asked quietly, unable to keep the incredulousness out of his voice and keeping his gaze fixed on the same place. "And not because two people, two, trainee police officers, died because of me?"

John thought about it for a moment, before nodding. "Yes. The only person you ever put in danger is yourself. With a couple of exceptions, and most of the time that exception is me. Besides, they'd have slowed you down. There's no way you'd want them with you." John offered him a small smile. "It's not your fault. Your brother will calm down, and Lestrade just had to look like he was doing something about it."

"What about you?" Sherlock interjected quickly. "You shouted at me, too." 

John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"That's because you ran off. I wasn't shouting at you because of the two bodies, Sherlock. I was shouting at you because one of them could have been yours."

At that, Sherlock frowned. "That doesn't make sense." 

"Yes it does," John nodded. "You need to go to bed," he added, checking his watch. "So how about hot chocolate and a hug?"

Sherlock smiled slightly. "Really, John? A hug?" He asked mockingly, and John was pleased to hear the tone. Normally the condescension would have riled him, but this time it was welcomed with open arms.

"You don't have to have a hug of you don't want it," John says quickly, suddenly realising that he may have overstepped a boundary and shuffling away, before he was pulled into an enormous teddybear hug by Sherlock, and Sherlock buried his face into John's neck. 

John cupped the back of Sherlock's neck with his hand, holding him securely as he hugged him back.

Slowly, the wall began to tumble.


End file.
